


Father Figures

by TheProfoundSilence



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Foreshadowing, Gen, Percy Jackson Being Awesome, Post-The Battle of the Labyrinth, Protective Poseidon (Percy Jackson), Sick Paul Blofis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:41:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26027404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheProfoundSilence/pseuds/TheProfoundSilence
Summary: In between the battles and the school life, there are the important things. Paul-Percy bonding fluff. In which Paul gets sick and Percy is awesome and Paul realizing for the first time just how lucky he is to have a step-son like Percy.
Relationships: Paul Blofis & Percy Jackson, Percy Jackson & Poseidon
Comments: 14
Kudos: 255





	Father Figures

**Author's Note:**

> I've read Paul-Percy bonding fluff before. And usually, it's Percy who gets sick. Which is okay, fair, because he deserves to be doted on. But then I imagined Paul getting sick and Percy being an awesome son and Paul realizing it and saying so. Set in-between The Battle of Labyrinth and The Last Olympian because that's when Percy needed it the most.

It wasn't like Percy was supposed to be home at that time.

It was just that right after gym, a monster had jumped him and by the time Percy had crawled from the disgusting slimy monster he was covered in monster drool. Yuck!

By the time he had changed and gotten out (miraculously not attracting any attention), he had already missed half of his Calculus class.

It was exhausting just thinking about it. He would go in and the teacher would glare like she just knew he was off making trouble because he had a rep and a record a mile big and he did not come from money and he was not even worthy enough for his father to stay for him.

She wouldn't say it, no. Paul was a teacher here and his family had been co-founders of the school almost 200 years ago and they were filthy rich and powerful and Paul's family adored him and were blind to all of his faults. But she would insinuate it and Percy would know because he had heard the same old bull his entire life from every teacher out there.

So he just shrugged and decided to skip home, considering it was the last period anyway. Paul would make excuses for him and get defensive over him like he always did without ever being asked. Paul was cool like that.

Besides, he had known that legacies who came to study in the same schools their parents and grand-parents had been in never really seemed to get into trouble. It had galled him for years. Now he was guiltily enjoying the same benefits.

He walked home.

Stepping through the door, he was immediately on high alert. Nobody was supposed to be at home. And yet, his demigod senses tingled.

Monster?

He uncapped Riptide.

A weak cough came from within. "Percy? Is that you? What are you doing here so early?" Paul's voice sounded hoarse, but the concern in him was still unmistakable.

Percy walked in to the bedroom, his sword still in hand. His demigod senses weren't buzzing but better safe than sorry.

He didn't hesitate to walk into Paul and mom's bedroom. They had always let him in far too easily and never really seemed to care much for privacy.

When he was home, they were discreet with their bedroom activities. After dark. Lights out.

(Percy had honestly asked Paul if that bothered him because sometimes, his mom was a little over-the-top when it came to him but she had to think about her new life too and Percy was willing to take a step back if it meant her happiness.

But Paul had been quick to assure him he was okay with it. Percy hadn't been convinced, but Paul seemed to worry even more than his mom did. She had the privilege of the Sight. He did not. Paul always worried about things he could not see or comprehend and got angry when someone tried to bully him for his dyslexia or ADHD or called him a bastard child.)

The blankets moved to show Paul with an awful case of bed-hair, eyes red and bleary. He scanned Percy as sharply as he could manage in his condition. "Are you okay?" he asked, an edge of panic in his voice.

"I'm not the one who needs help here." Percy informed him, nonchalantly hiding the warmth in his chest at the idea of someone who is not his mom caring. Paul and his family were always that wonderful to him. It was still hard to accept it.

He capped Riptide and walked in deeper, switching on the soft blue night light. It was soft on the eyes. Sure enough, Paul blinked a little but didn't flinch at it. "Wait, that was your sword, wasn't it?" Paul belatedly realized.

"Yes," Percy absently said, getting out the thermometer from the medicine cabinet.

"That is so cool," Paul gushed. "Like you are a ninja samurai or something."

Percy looked to Paul in incredulous amusement. "You sound a little high."

"I feel a little off," Paul admitted. "My brain-to-mouth filter might not be working so well."

Percy chuckled and sat at the edge of the bed, "Open your mouth and say Ah," he sassed. Paul gave him a look but opened his mouth and let him stick the thermometer in. Percy counted the time and took it out, walking to the doorway so he could read the little black reading in the light of the living room.

"103.1" Percy read disapprovingly. "That is not good. Nothing alarming but we need to make sure it doesn't rise." He turned back to Paul. "How are you feeling? What are your symptoms?"

"Percy, you don't have to do this. I'm alright, really."

"Paul, you missed class to have a lie down in your own bed. I think I know you well enough to tell when you're not feeling so good. Besides, we demigods have acute senses."

Paul flinched a little as he always did when the topic of his godly heritage came up. Percy ignored it, ignoring the soft pang of hurt. It was understandable that Paul would have trouble assimilating something so big into his mind-set.

"Just the high fever. A bit of a headache. Some discomfort in my throat. Weakness in my limbs."

"And does a bit of a headache-"

"It means just a little bit of a headache. Trust me, when I get sick or am in pain, I turn into an actual baby. I won't lie. I'll exaggerate and look for sympathy."

Percy chuckled. "I'll run down to the stores and get you some supplies."

"And ice-cream," Paul added. "Vanilla ice-cream."

Percy looked at him incredulously. "You hate vanilla ice-cream. You said that 'it makes you feel sick'." Percy air-quoted.

"It does," Paul defended. "But when I'm sick, it makes me feel better."

They exchanged a glance, Paul earnest and serious, Percy incredulous.

Percy threw up his hands. "I give up. Vanilla ice-cream it is."

Percy got everything in record speed. The cashier at the drug-store looked him up and down, eyeing his school uniform and sympathetically asked who it was for.

"My step-dad," Percy replied because the man was nosy but that was no reason to be rude and he was checking out the items while making small talk.

The cashier stopped for a second. "Kid," he said, voice so oddly sympathetic Percy looked up from watching the items be scanned. "Get help. I'm serious. It's only going to get worse." He eyed the mild bruise on his cheek from fighting the monster and looked even more pitying.

"It's not like that," Percy reddened. He had had the same looks when he had been little; a few sympathetic ones sneaking him candies and chocolates and food. A friend in 2nd grade had been kind enough and his mom sensible and sweet enough to pack an extra lunch for Percy everyday. He had always torn into it ravenously, not realizing the reason behind the uncharacteristic act.

"Of course not," the cashier agreed.

He had still slipped in a 20 dollar bill (which made Percy feel guilty. He had just taken someone's hard earned money), a couple of helpline numbers for abuse, a scrawled out number which was apparently the cashier's personal phone for _whenever you need to call, day_ _or night_ and a few candies.

Percy sucked on the hard candies as he walked home.

He made sure to keep his footsteps light as he walked in. Demigods gave 'sneaky' a whole new meaning.

He put away the ice-cream and walked in to see Paul already asleep which was good. Apparently sleep was supposed to be good for recovery. But he also really needed to take the medicine.

What was more important?

Percy stood indecisively in the doorway for a few moments, then decided Paul could go back to sleep after taking the meds.

"Percy," Paul groaned when Percy shook him awake.

"It's okay, Paul. Just take the medicine and go back to sleep."

Paul drooped tiredly, but obediently opened his mouth for the tablet and swallowed it when Percy spurt a bit of water in his mouth. "Can I sleep now?" he asked petulantly.

"Yes," Percy assured him, drawing the covers to his chin and tucking him in like he would his mother when she was sick and Gabe when he came home drunk (honestly, after Percy got a little older, he just threw Gabe on his bed carelessly and hoped he fell).

Paul made a soft sound but his breath had evened out within seconds. Percy tiptoed out and shut the blue light. He softly closed the door behind him, leaving just a sliver so he could easily hear if Paul called for help.

Standing uncertainly in the living room, he wondered what to do.

Mom wouldn't be home till the day after tomorrow and no way would Percy call to get her worrying about things he already had handled. She needed to focus on her creative writing classes.

Finally, reluctantly, he opened his books. He had a headache within 10 minutes.

The words kept moving about so much. He had to focus on every word individually and give it personal attention. It took almost 3 minutes to read the word _Independence._

Percy scratched at his forehead in frustration and pulled lightly at his hair. He groaned, letting his head fall back against the chair. Why was life so hard?

This, Percy decided, was probably why demigods had shorter life spans. Why prolong the misery?

Then resolved to never joke about it in front of anyone else. They never seemed to think such jokes were funny. As if he would actually die if he joked about it.

Percy was just about to throw his books out and set them on fire when he heard Paul shuffling from the bedroom. Grateful for the reprieve, he got up immediately.

"Paul, you okay?" Percy asked, opening the door.

"My head hurts," Paul moaned pitifully.

Percy sat down by the bed. "Alright, head on the pillow. Yeah, that's it! Now-" Percy manhandled Paul and put his thumb and the two middle fingers between his pinky and index finger to Paul's forehead. "Tell me if it's too much."

Percy pressed and massaged and dug into Paul's scalp. "Feel better?"

"You're so good at this." Paul moaned. "Have you ever done this before?"

"It's mostly just demigod strength," Percy said absently. Paul flinched a little under Percy's hand.

Percy kept massaging but he slowed down a little. "Paul, can I ask you something?" Paul hummed in agreement.

Percy debated on what to say and whether he should even say it before deciding to just wing it. It had worked for monsters and life-and-death situations so far. "Does it really bother you that much? Me being a demigod, I mean? Because I don't have to bring it up so much if it does bother you."

Percy couldn't even begrudge Paul that. Sometimes Percy wished he wasn't a part of that world. And Paul had had a nice wonderful life so far. The fact that he had stayed and married and hadn't run away from the wedding chapel had frankly surprised both mother and son. They had just been waiting for the freak-out when Paul realized the implications of everything that Percy's birth meant.

In fact, a grim part of him was increasingly starting to realize that his days were numbered. Why not just slip away and let at least Paul and mom have their happy ending? If there was anyone in the world who deserved it, it had to be them.

"Of course not." Paul said unconvincingly. He turned away lightly, nearly dislodging Percy's hand on him. "I am tired."

"You should sleep." Percy agreed, still softly massaging his head, ignoring the cement at the bottom of his stomach. Paul's eyes flutter close in response and within seconds he was fast asleep. Percy shuts off the night light and quietly walks out.

It's the next day (thankfully a holiday) when Percy brings Paul a bowl of soup and Paul looks much better when he pats his bed at the side gesturing for Percy to sit.

When Percy sat down by the side, Paul said, "I wanted to thank you-"

"Aw, c'mon Paul. We're practically family here. You married my mom and that means that when you get sick, lending you a hand is the least I can do."

"Let me finish," Paul said with a soft smile. Percy gestured for him to continue, abashed. "Look, I know that the two of us live in very different worlds and I can never understand yours. I used to pity you, for having to live that life, for never having a father, for…everything really. But, you never really seemed to need that kind of emotion, you were always stronger than anyone I had ever met. Mental strength, that's-that's a hard attribute to master.

But, when you were taking care of me, I realized that you are not just strong, you are good too and that's even harder to master. What I am trying to say here in my really round-about way is that, I am proud of you, kid."

Paul clapped him on his shoulder, smiling warmly at his awkward expression. "You're the best son a father could have ever asked for and what with your dad being…I just wanted to make sure you knew that."

Percy looked down, blushing red, his eyes a calmer, more serene green.

Poseidon watched the scene impassively from his invisible position next to the window, calmly leaning against the window.

He shouldn't be here, really really shouldn't be here. There was a war to be fought and here he was…feeling whatever he was feeling. He wanted to say something, do something, anything to make himself feel better because the foolish mortal was right; this was his favorite son in forever and when a god said forever he meant it.

But there was nothing to be done and nothing to be said.

He looked away and drew himself back to Atlantis and wondered how cruel the world was, to give him such a gem and then have him die inevitably on his 16th birthday for his father's sake.

**Author's Note:**

> Not really that proud of this one. I think it seems a bit abrupt, a bit rushed in places. Hell, I debated just not posting it and if I hadn't promised goneforbooks on A03 that I would, I would seriously have let it lie on my laptop, like it has been for the past how-many-weeks. So, tell me what you think and I really, really hope you guys like it.


End file.
